The Doctor's Dilemma
by Airforce1990
Summary: My name is Dr. Julian Bashir and I was a prisoner in the Dominion Internment Camp 317 while a changeling had been impersonating my body. This is my data entry, one month since I have escaped.


The Doctor's Dilemma

My name is Dr. Julian Bashir and I was a prisoner in the Dominion Internment Camp 317 while a changeling had been impersonating my body. Why am I telling you this? Because in the last month since my captivity, I have had trouble coping with it. I am having nightmares, flashbacks, panic attacks, shaking hands and anxiety. The problem is this … I can't tell anyone. During the month that I was held captive, a changeling was masquerading as me, and my colleagues, my friends, hadn't realized any differences. They hadn't realized that I was gone, they didn't know what I was going through. I can't blame them though, the changeling knew everything about me.

For the past month, I have been going through the motions. Making sure that the changeling didn't harm anyone who came to the infirmary for medical help. Keeping busy with work so that I won't have to remember when I was in captivity, the feeling of being locked up, being alone, dirty, starving, of losing hope of anyone finding me. During the waking hours I won't have to admit being scared, afraid of what had happened, what I am still going through. Sitting with my friends seem to be a chore now, worried that they will notice me picking at my food, worried that they will see the dark circles under my eyes, realized that I haven't gained weight in the last month. The night I came back and I went to my quarters, still dressed in my uniform, the old uniform and seeing the new uniform in the closet, I wept, because even though it was only a month that I was gone, to me, it seemed to be much longer than that.

I stay out of my quarters because being in there, I still feel locked in, with no escape. There are times on the station where I feel claustrophobic, when I am around a lot of people, or when I am in a small space, or when I am around strangers. To me, this feels uncanny as I have never had these issues before. I was always smiling, laughing, socializing with everyone. I guess this is why I am saying all of this. Being a medical doctor, I have also studied psychology though not as extensively, so I know what my symptoms look and sounds like. I also know keeping a journal, putting down my thoughts and feelings can help. I can't go to my friends for help because they are also my colleagues and they would have a duty to report me for a psychological evaluation. I can't go to the captain either because he is also required to report it and put me on limited duty. I know that I need help before I make a mistake with a patient, but I don't want anyone thinking I was weak. And its weird, because I feel if I do go to them with this, with them not knowing that I was go for so long, I'm scared of how they will react. Whether or not I am exaggerating my experience while in captivity, that its not a big deal because, hey I was the only one who knew I was being held captive. But I know what I had gone through, what I am still going through. I know that I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from what had happened, that I am not weak for surviving something so unimaginable.

When I came aboard the space station, I was innocent, naïve, I was enthusiastic about the world beyond Earth, excited about what I could learn, I had a sense of being able to do great things, to help in ways I wouldn't have been able to back on Earth or on a spaceship. I didn't realize the dangers of other species, of wars and despair that I had only read in textbooks, of the inhumane things some people will do to others for their own pleasure. I didn't know that when I got here that I would experience things of nightmares, nightmares that would wake you up in the dead of night in a cold sweat, breathing ragged, scared of what is in the shadows of the room.

I am scared of what my mind can come up with, scared of the emotions and feelings that I have been experiencing. I am scared of my own shadow, scared of the noises on the station that are now unfamiliar. I am scared of the people around me, my friends, my colleagues, the acquaintances that I see regularly, of the patients that I have to see and treat, scared that they will capture me, scared of who they actually are. I am scared that one day I will wake up and be back there in the internment camp, that perhaps the last month was a delusion and that I haven't escaped. I am scared of what I am becoming.

But I will get through this, no matter what I do, I will get through what had happened in the Dominion Internment Camp 317, even if I have to do it on my own. End entry.


End file.
